Carolyn Wells

The Gold Bag Carolyn Wells

"Here we are, sir," said the driver, as we turned in at a fine stone gateway. "This is theJoseph Crawford place."He spoke with a sort of reverent pride, and I afterward learned that his devotion to hislate master was truly exceptional. This probably prejudiced him in favor of the Crawford place and all its appurtenances, for, to me, the estate was not so magnificent as some of the others we had passed. And yet, though not so large, I soon realized that every detail of art or architecture was perfect in itsway, and that it was really a gem of a country home to which I had been brought. We drove along a curving road to the house, passing well-arranged flower beds, andmany valuable trees and shrubs. Reaching the porte cochere the driver stopped, and thegroom sprang down to hand me out. As might be expected, many people were about. Men stood talking in groups on theveranda, while messengers were seen hastily coming or going through the open frontdoors. A waiting servant in the hall at once ushered me into a large room. The effect of the interior of the house impressed me pleasantly. As I passed through thewide hall and into the drawing-room, I was conscious of an atmosphere of wealth temperedby good taste and judgment. The drawing-room was elaborate, though not ostentatious, and seemed well adapted as asocial setting for Joseph Crawford and his family. It should have been inhabited by men andwomen in gala dress and with smiling society manners. It was therefore a jarring note when I perceived its only occupant to be a commonplacelooking man, in an ill-cut and ill-fitting business suit. He came forward to greet me, and hismanner was a trifle pompous as he announced, "My name is Monroe, and I am the coroner. You, I think, are Mr. Burroughs, from New York."It was probably not intentional, and may have been my imagination, but his tone seemedto me amusingly patronizing."Yes, I am Mr. Burroughs," I said, and I looked at Mr. Monroe with what I hoped was anexpression that would assure him that our stations were at least equal. I fear I impressed him but slightly, for he went on to tell me that he knew of myreputation as a clever detective, and had especially desired my attendance on this case. This sentiment was well enough, but he still kept up his air and tone of patronage, whichhowever amused more than irritated me. I knew the man by hearsay, though we had never met before; and I knew that he was of anature to be pleased with his own prominence as coroner, especially in the case of soimportant a man as Joseph Crawfor